Small Features and Over-sized Eyes Trigger a Hormonal Response in Humans. It’s Autonomic.

 

I’m creeping closer to thirty and I’m at that strange point in life that everyone experiences, where my friends are a crazy mix of people who jump across the world at the drop of a hat because they have no ties, the ones you can always rely on to be at the pub, as well as people who are buying family homes and thinking about how they want to celebrate their little ones first day at school. I love watching people in my life grow and change. People who were once too scared to make new friends at school are now smashing jobs in far off, exotic lands I’ve never heard of. People meeting and connecting with partners who empower them and make them smile in a way I’ve never seen before. Seeing people I met in trashy bars forgo the Saturday night bedlam for Sunday mornings cleaning up cereal when their kids try to make their own breakfast, is incomprehensible when you first meet them over cheap tequila. 

 

It’s hard to separate out the old school expectations and the Instagram filters from real life and desires though. That girl who’s decided to leave the country again, her life looks so exciting and colourful, but is she really just running away from the fact that she’s spending another birthday single, another year closer to never having her own children? The woman who takes her family to the zoo or the beach or the woods every weekend, does she really wish she could just spend more time at the office and finally get that promotion that she knows she deserves? There are a million examples of women who have given up their careers, crazy girly weekends away and Sunday’s at the spa in order to bring up their family and it’s deep down, genuinely, 100% their choice, which makes them happy. There are just as many examples of women who choose to never have children and enjoy the freedom of never having to get up before 6am (or home from a night out before 6 either, for that matter), the disposable income to eat where they want, travel where they want and spend time with whoever they wish, however they wish. 

 

The thing that I don’t understand is how to know which side of the fence I fall on. Nothing is that black and white. The two types of women I’ve spoken about aren’t mutually exclusive. We live in a world where you can be a woman with a family and a career, see the world and go for expensive, exclusive meals and still do the school run, if that’s what you want. But I have no idea what I want and although these lifestyles aren’t mutually exclusive, having a kid is not something you can compromise on. I don’t feel like it’s something I need to make a decision about yet, I have more than enough time to change and grow myself but I do wonder, where that growth will take me. I am a very caring person, and I do feel maternal towards some people but I never feel broody. In my last relationship, my ex was constantly cooing over babies. He had a nephew that was just under a year when we met and he was infatuated. I can understand that feeling because that’s how I’ve always felt about my little brother, but for me those feelings don’t transfer to anyone else. I did, however, find the idea of him with a kid very attractive. He had Huntington’s disease in his family so after about a year together, he decided to get tested for the gene so we could understand what our future held. I sat in front of a genetics counsellor and talked through our options if he did hold the gene. I spoke to people online who had spouses with the disease and asked them how it affected their family and young children, seeing their parents end up in full time care at a much too young age. Everything revolved around how we could have a family. I was the only one suggesting that maybe, not having a family at all would be the best option. The whole experience was intense, but when we found out that he didn’t have the gene, it was an incredible feeling. Suddenly I could imagine us growing old together, but there were still no kids. My broodiness in that time, came completely from the fact that he wanted kids. I never felt that pull. 

 

People tell me it changes. That when I’m older, I will get that urge, that want and need, that we as women have built into our physiology. The thing is, we as women are made to have children before the age that I am now, so when exactly is that going to kick in? And even if it does, do I really want to give up my life as it is for an urge?! I am a selfish person. I like myself and I like my life. Anyone that knows me, knows that I love dogs, and to be honest, I couldn’t even commit to that right now. Getting up every day to walk them, having to come home every night to walk them and feed them. Nope. I like living spontaneously and I’m busy working out my education and career and friends and, just nope. So, if I never get that urge strong enough to make that commitment then I don’t think that is such a bad thing. I don’t think I’ll wake up at 50 and regret my decisions. I know myself pretty well at this point and I’m not making decisions out of fear or anxiety, I’m making them because they are the right thing for me at the moment. I don’t want kids, and that certainly doesn’t make me a failure. It’s not because I can’t find someone who would want to have a family with me or because I don’t feel like I’m “ready”. It’s because I don’t want kids. It’s that simple and easy. Still, never say never. Maybe one day I will cross to the other side of the fence but right now I can’t imagine what that feels like. I might, however, consider getting a dog. 

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It’s Someone’s Birthday Somewhere

 

I freaking love birthdays. I used to think they were pointless. It seems like people just using it as another excuse to be the centre of attention. Parents use it to throw party’s for their 1 year olds that won’t remember so that they, in turn, get attention. Then eventually, those 1 year olds turn 21 and dress up in their badges and sashes and get free shots. Boys are a different version of tragic. They go out in big groups and use it as an excuse to chat up every girl they see or force the poor birthday person to chug ridiculous drinks. And then there’s the whole present thing. I don’t like presents. Not for birthdays or Christmas anyway. I like random, “I was just thinking of you” presents, but the forced participation of finding something suitable on a deadline just seems like another obligation I’m happy to shed. So, yeah, on the surface birthdays all seems like a bullshit waste of time.

 

The thing is, when do we ever just get a chance to celebrate ourselves? Birthdays aren’t an achievement, you don’t have to do anything special to have one, just pass another year. They are useful markers to remember how far you’ve come over the last year and acknowledge all the things that happened but that’s about it. Still, we get cake and candles and presents and people sing your name! It’s about the only time we get to do it just because. I wish everyone could learn to take a little bit of that kind of celebration into their every day lives more. Of course, I wouldn’t recommend eating cake every day, that seems unhealthy, but having people around you who you love, that are able to celebrate your little successes every day is important.

 

I do think it’s important to be able to congratulate ourselves, but it’s nice to have a pat on the back sometimes too. Self definition is key to healthy relationships, but so is having an impact on the other person. To hear that someone’s proud of who you are and be excited by your achievements is such a good feeling. Sure, it’s nice to have people to go to when things are bad, but having people that you want to share great things with is awesome. Having friends that don’t let competition or comparison get in the way of feeling happy for you is the most amazing feeling. It feels really true and honest and that’s the feeling I get on my birthday. When people make the effort to just come hang out, they bring a smile and a hug and maybe a bottle (a gift I will never turn away), it honestly makes me feel so special and happy. It makes me feel like I do have an impact. I’ve even got better at not being awkward and crying when people sing at me. That’s how I want to make other people feel (the good stuff, not the awkward singing part). I want the people in my life to know that they are special and important and loved every single day. Plus, I really like cake. My half birthday is November 20th. Do you think I can get away with celebrating that too?

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Repeats and Repeats and Repeats

 

When do you know you’re done with therapy? I’ve been going for over 18 months now and my sessions have transitioned from stuttering to push out words that I never wanted to say, even to myself, to basically letting my therapist know all the great things that have happened over the last fortnight. I still have a rant occasionally, but it feels more like I’m venting to a friend or a stranger in a bar, putting the world to rights rather than working through deep seated issues anymore.

 

When I try and focus in on things that are negative on my life, things that get to me daily that maybe he can help me through, I generally don’t see a pattern. They are things that would annoy anyone. It wasn’t until last week when he pointed out that a major part of mental health, and in particular, transactional analysis, is knowing that people are inherently okay. They do good things, they do bad things, but they are in essence okay. It’s accepting that they are at different points in their journey and perhaps they haven’t had years of therapy to draw on now. You can’t force people to deal with things that they are not ready to face yet, even if I, or anyone else can see straight through these issues. Unfortunately that means that people play games, repeat unhealthy patterns and, generally, seem pretty dumb. It’s frustrating. It’s irritating trying to support people close to me through something that I’ve seen them do a million times before. Same shit, different day. And that’s what I rant about. It’s always people and it’s always the seemingly stupid decisions they make. At what point am I bad friend for deciding I don’t want to listen to it anymore? Does it make me a bad person if I’m not able to stand and watch them go through the same mistakes over and over? My therapist says no (because I’ve got to remember that, essentially there are no bad people), but it’s something I need to work at.

 

If you aren’t careful, it can be something that seeps into every part of your life. I think because thing’s are going really well for me at the moment, when I see other people struggling it bothers me more than it did before. I grew up thinking I had to save the world but learnt eventually that I had to learn how to look after myself before how I help everyone else. Now I am doing that and I am nailing this self care and independence malarkey, I have more time and brain space to help others. I have friends going through horrible break ups, suffering for the jobs they hate and being trodden on by “friends” whichever direction I look. I see my family sticking to the same script they have for decades. People telling me they need someone or something, saying that they just want someone to look after them or holding on to every little piece of negativity they encounter, because it proves the monsters in their head right. It’s like everyone’s living in these comfortable little bubbles of toxic air and they don’t even want to try and burst it. I can’t burst it for them, but I can’t climb in to keep them company either. 

 

Understanding is one thing, embracing the concept is something different. Having boundaries is healthy, but at the moment I let these games affect my well being too much. It winds me up and sometimes I just want to grab people and shake them and yell at them until they hear me. It’s not their fault that they can’t hear me. They just aren’t ready yet. For my own sake, and the sake of my relationships, I need to be okay with that, and acknowledge everyone’s individual experiences and journeys. I need to aim to be a positive role modal and force for them to relate too, but I can’t be relatable if I’m pissed off all the time. I guess, I’ve still got a few bubbles of my own to pop. Luckily, I’ve always found running with scissors so much fun. 

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I Have Zero Selfie Game

 

 

Social media is a weird thing. I love seeing what my friends are up to, use it to find out about events and giggle at the worst memes around. I kind of glaze over the bikini bodies, the food pictures and the minute to minute statuses. They don’t impact my day. There are so many people that find them toxic and scroll through the meaningless bullshit soaking in every post and I think that is poisonous. There is plenty of evidence out there that suggests that the more time online you spend, the more miserable you are in your life. I’m surprised actually, how little people are willing to accept that fact. Online companies do a tiny bit of work, but social media is like a gateway drug to the pro-ana websites, porn addiction, online bullying. But all that is for another day. Let’s just have a think about all the Lucy’s and Emily’s and Matt’s on your feed for a moment. Average people.

 

All the comparisons and competition and pure fucking effort people put into every post is impossible to live up to. I try so so hard not to judge people in life. My mom brought me up to question things and have compassion, take people for who there are and not what they look like or where they come from. But honestly, in my raw form, I can’t lie; I judge those fabulously filtered people posting a selfie every day. How. Fucking. Boring. And I judge people that don’t question it. I’ve worked really hard on liking myself and turns out, news flash, I’m pretty awesome. No one’s perfect, but I like who I am. I’m a good person with some kind of sense of humour, intelligence and a body that I’ve fallen in love with because it provides for me. So, it doesn’t come from jealousy. I love lifting people up and if you feel great then 100% snap it and post it honey, but who feels that great every single day? Nope. I just see the sad. The need for social acceptance and likes on likes.

 

It irritates me that people enable that kind of living. People keep liking the pictures, dating the people based on their copious selfies on dating apps and fuelling the bullshit culture that it creates. People are so judgemental these days (me included apparently). No amount of likes or matches are going to make you happy. It’s the new crack. People need to find a way to fulfil their own needs without outside validation constantly, but I can understand that it’s difficult when there’s a shiny piece of metal which fits so snugly in your hand, that’s feeding your addiction constantly. There’s a big difference between feeling connected to people and having anonymous usernames telling you that you’re a success story. You can be a failure with all the shares in the world and a success in your room at home by yourself, none of it means anything if you aren’t confident in who you are.

 

I like little changes. I think that little things can make a big difference. So my little thing today is that I’m going to stop enabling this kind of culture in my little life and start speaking about it more so that at least the people in my circle think about it a little more. Fair warning here to the people in my life: next guy to show me a profile of a girl he met online who has has a million pictures from that “myspace” angle and a filter for every mood, you’re gonna get a lot of questions. Asking questions can be a little thing that makes a big difference, and that’s one thing I can encourage. Also no, I will not stop posting selfies, and yes, they probably won’t be filtered and will, absolutely, without a doubt, have stupid faces. Enjoy!

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Pics Or It Didn’t Happen

Performance is built into us. We are taught that if no one saw it then it doesn’t matter. Pics or it didn’t happen, right? So if a tree falls in the woods or whatever. If you do something good and no one knows, does it count? I remember trying to communicate what I wanted to do when I was a real life adult, I must’ve been about 6. The only analogy that I could think of was that I wanted to invent the toaster. I didn’t care if people knew I invented it or if it had my name on, I would explain, I just wanted people to have toast. Surely that’s a great example of how kids are so pure. I hadn’t let that expectation of performance get to me yet.
Tonight one of the best musicians I know played a random, unplanned open mic. He’s been recording for months so hasn’t played live for a while, but this guy is incredibly talented, I’m sure he was amazing. Still, he didn’t love it because he felt like he wasn’t at his best. I talk about music a lot, I know, but it’s because it’s so intrinsically a part of all our lives and a part that people don’t think about all that much. The thing is, if you take a moment to think about what it means to you, it can reveal a lot. So I’m sure I’ll always have more to say. This guy, I’m sure, impressed everyone else but still it wasn’t good enough for himself. He was unprepared and didn’t feel his best. The thing that I want to bring to the table is, who the fuck cares?
When I ran a restaurant, I would dress professionally, talk to customers eloquently and come across well informed. Everyone assumed I was a student because surely I wouldn’t choose to be in hospitality. A sixth form principal once told me he was confident I would get in when I applied for his school and didn’t even tell me the entry requirements because I “looked smart”. I have always performed as a professional person, at least on first impressions. Bizarre considering my friends know me as the crazy, weird girl, but okay. It proves my point that society doesn’t care who you are, as long as you show a good face to the world. What’s worse is that face can’t just be anything. Nope, as a woman you have to be skinny, but curvy, clever but not too smart and confident but not a bitch. Men have to be strong, but sensitive, tall and built but without too many muscles and ambitious but home for dinner every night. Really, it’s not about what you want or how you feel it’s about what you say and do, which I agree with to a point. I agree in the sense that if you don’t like something, change it. People that complain constantly then do nothing can frustrate me at times, although I understand how hard change can be, and it’s especially hard when you feel like you have to reach this impossible standard to be valued. When did we as a society forget that people matter and what they want and how they feel is who they are, not their job title or car?
If you breathe, you have value and you deserve your space on this world. I’m getting to know more and more people who need to relearn that as an adult. Do you think that when I was 2 I would have worried about getting up on a stage and singing? Not a chance, but now I’ve had to learn again that if I want to do something, even if everyone else’s opinion is that I can’t, then I have to right to go and make it happen. I wish that we could take our eyeballs out sometimes and put them in someone else’s face so they can see themselves how we see them. Since, so far, that’s impossible (come on science, catch up), we each have to find our own way.
Some people are great at the performance, and good for them. I’m not. If I think people aren’t seeing the real me it makes me feel uncomfortable. I like me and I don’t want to do things purely for the applause. I have my own applause in my head now days, for things that no one else cares about. I’m good at celebrating my own little wins now, and I’m great at hyping my friends up. I even have a playlist for my best friend full of strong, independent “you got this gurrl, you do you!” kind of songs. I’m not impenetrable to this pressure though, and that’s why I don’t share my writing. I love writing and I don’t want to set it free to be stepped on and stamped on by the masses. I’ll work on that but I really wish I could see people take their own experiences and value themselves more. My friend should have enjoyed that open mic for what it was, but our culture has fucked him over. I know he would have nailed it without even being there and I know that because not only is he very talented, but he’s a great person, so everything he does is great. He thinks he just wasn’t good enough. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it 83959 times more, who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?!
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The Only Person I Want to Speak to Right Now Is Dead

 

My friend died when I was 19. He was hit by a car and the driver left the scene. I will never forget finding out, I’ll never forget his funeral and I’ll never forget the pain I felt. I can’t forget because I feel it all the time. It comes in waves. I get this urge to just speak it him, no one else, it has to be him. I think about him every day and sometimes I can laugh at our memories, but other times the grief is overwhelming.

 

I first met him when I was 16. I was moving back to Wales and got in touch my an old friend I went to primary school with. I hadn’t seen her for 5 or 6 years but there was a local festival on so we agreed to meet up. When I walked out the train station I saw her from a distance and waved then the boy she was with ran up to me full pace, picked me up and swung me around. I was totally confused and laughed so hard. He introduced himself and we spent the entire day together. I barely saw my old friend, I stuck with him. He greeted me like that every time I saw him. An ex once asked if we were ever together because we had such a clear bond that was undeniable. I laughed at the time but I understand now. He was one of the best people I know.

 

My life is great right now, but there are things up in the air. Things that frustrate me and confuse me and I want to talk about it. But I want to talk to him. It hurts. A lot. I’ve never felt such a strong pull towards something that I just can’t satisfy, no matter what I do. There’s no replacement for that feeling. No amount of drink, dancing or work that can distract me. It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt and I’ve spent the last 8 years trying to soothe it, but it never goes away. I miss my friend. I miss all the things we could’ve done and all the things we could’ve been. He told me he loved me all the time, and I loved him, but we were both young and it was a confusing time. We both dated other people and encouraged each other in those relationships, in a really genuine way. We wanted each other to be happy. It was such a pure love, one that I always assumed would last. I figured we would live our lives more and learn and make our own mistakes, but at the end of all that bullshit we would end up together, in one way or another. He was my happy ending. He was the only fairy tale I ever believed in and I knew he would always be in my life. Then he died and everything was gone. Worse than gone, it was buried with him along with every chance we ever had.

 

I miss my friend. I wish I could tell him all this. I wish I could tell him about how I hate my job even though it seems perfect for me, but how I’ve found writing and now fulfilment and self esteem. About how how my friends frustrate me and how much I love them, he would adore them. About how relationships always seem to be a nightmare and I try to be straight up, but people seem to be disloyal no matter what I do. He wasn’t the wisest guy in the world, he never had all the answers, but he always made me feel better. Every time. He knew me, so he knew what to say, and even when he didn’t he was just there. He was always there in all the chaos.

 

Sometimes, when things are going especially well, I miss him more. Why should I get to live a happy life when his was cut so short? I’ve tried to show him how much I care about him. I bought him a gravestone when his family didn’t for 5 years and I visit him as much as I can. His grave is in a beautiful churchyard on top of a hill where you can see the sea in one direction and fields for miles in the other. I love it there. I sit with him and talk to him as if he’s still here when I know he’s not. I drink Jack Daniels with him, even though I hate it, he always loved it. I give him my time. I feel guilty because when I left Wales I should have taken him with me.If I had told him to come then he would have, but he said I needed to look after myself and I couldn’t do that if I was worrying about him too. I was in crisis but I should have made him leave with me. Maybe he would still be here. If he still died, we would have at least had more time together. The thing is, writing all this, I thought it would help, but it hasn’t. I need to see him and speak to him and hug him. That’s the only thing that will help. I need to go to Wales.

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My Bestie Might Be My Soulmate, Mostly I Just Think She’s Cool

 

I never believed in soulmates. I think we recognise certain qualities in people due to our attachment styles, our understanding of the world and experiences that we’ve been through, and we can see this from across the room somehow without ever speaking a word. That’s incredible, and confusing, and of course it feels like fate. I don’t believe in fate, or soulmates, I believe in freedom of choice. I talked in my last post about how nothing is really real, including our emotions. We believe them 100% in the moment, but we’re in control of them. I believe that people play a role in your life, and sometimes those roles play out. They run their course and serve there purpose, then they end. Or they should end but people grip to them because they can’t understand the impermanence and fluidity of life and the lack of willingness to let go will make them miserable. 

 

A good example of this is when people ask if I regret my marriage. I got married to this wonderful man, after 6 years of dating, when I was 23. We split up when I was 24. I don’t regret anything. Even before the wedding, people would ask me if I was worried or had doubts. My answer was always the same: Whether we’re married for 72 years and die in each others arms, or break up tomorrow, I’m making this decision based on how I feel right now. I loved him deeply and I was committed and he wanted to get married, I wanted him in every single way and I wanted him to be happy. How can I regret that? So it didn’t last. What we had was important, and luckily we were both very introspective and honest and we acknowledged when we didn’t work anymore. It was a very amicable break up, and although we’re not in contact anymore (we have no reason to be), I still love and respect him and wish him nothing but the best. We saw that we weren’t what the other needed and that we couldn’t meet each others needs anymore and went our separate ways. To me, that’s a very happy ending. 

 

Considering all this, why be open to a relationship at all? If I don’t value soulmates, romance, fate and I believe that many relationships have an expiry date, then why put myself through all the effort? I hear you, and sometimes I’m not prepared for that either, but really, all that matters in life is people. My best friend and I have an amazing relationship. We went through all the stages, small talk, shared experiences and game playing. We were incredibly honest with each other, we were patient  and helped each other grow throughout it. Now we’re emotionally intimate and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had. Feeling emotionally connected to people is what it’s all about. We can be vulnerable together and still feel safe. Maybe it won’t last forever (I hope that’s not true, I can’t wait to tear up the nursing home one day with our box wine and dance moves), but for now it’s one of the best things in my life. I don’t need it, I would survive without it, life would move on, but honestly connecting with people is where fulfilment in life is. 

 

The key in connecting genuinely, is being on the same page. My best friend will listen to me explain sessions I’ve had with my therapist and watch videos about transnational analysis. She wants to grow as much as I do, so we grow together. In my last relationship, my ex actually said to me at one point that I had chosen to go to therapy, not him, and he had no interest in changing any of his flaws. There’s no way to connect with that, unless it’s in an unhealthy and toxic way. The right people to grow close to don’t come around often and sometimes they are disguised as soulmates. Sometimes it looks like fate, but a lot of the time it doesn’t. It grows slowly and changes naturally. The important thing is, to find these people you have to be open and willing. Look past the sparks and fireworks and see who they really are and you could be rewarded with something far more exciting and magical than pretty lights. 

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Feeling Free

 

Freedom, to me, means being authentic and choices that are real and not being inhibited, by society, relationships, work, or anything else. It’s grounding and exciting all at the same time. I feel it whenever I’m near the sea. The ocean is this big, all encompassing, unforgiving creature that I could just walk into and disappear. Sure, people would be sad for a while, but the world would go on. Ultimately, nothing would change and the ocean would certainly be no different. The idea that I’m so small and insignificant for me makes me feel free. I can be unapologetically me and make mistakes and the tide would never change.
Past basic bodily functions, nothing is real. Religion, morality, law, emotions, it’s all constructed by our mind. Nothing is real or tangible, and nothing means anything. But it means that we can change those constructs. When we say something we do genuinely believe it; “I love you”, “I hate you”. We really think it’s true but it’s not because it’s all made up. So, we can change it, the same way as when someone does something to us we can change how we think of them. We can change how we think about anything, how we feel about anything and when you really believe that, you become free. These constructs are open to corruption, which is what people don’t realise. They think that their childhood and traumas that they’ve experienced mean something and affect them beyond their control but these things can’t affect us unless we choose to let them. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fucking difficult to over come those things sometimes, but it’s possible. It’s hard work and it’s exciting. Moving forward and shedding all that weight is freedom.
I forget this sometimes myself, so at a point where I was really suffering with my mental health but really wanted to recover, I got a tattoo. It’s a silly thing but it reminds me of this feeling that I have right now. A feeling that I can do anything and that I can be truly happy if I stop getting in my own way.
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Controversial Opinion: Love Songs are Done

 

Yes it’s true, I have become cynical about romance, and I never started out believing in the predictable Disney story in the first place, but I’m not a total ice queen (despite what people may think about me). The issue I have with love songs is how unhealthy they are. Where’s the secure-secure attachment representations out there?!

 

I suppose I should explain a little about attachment styles to make sense of my opinion here. People create attachment styles through childhood based mainly on their relationships with their parents. In a very basic sense there are a few different types. A secure attachment style is one where the individual feels confident in themselves and confident in other people. They get their needs met and pick up on cues to meet others needs. An anxious attachment style is one that seems needy, because often they were met with uncertainty in childhood. They are accepting, even demanding, of intimacy and need constant reassurance to feel valued. Avoidant/detached people, on the other hand, tend to avoid intimacy. They like to be independent and value their anonymity because, they have learnt that love is not reliable so they can only rely on themselves. There are a million different variances, but this is the basics broken down very quickly. Unhealthy tends to attract unhealthy, which is why many relationships don’t actually last. It can work if both are willing to change and are introspective and understanding enough to have the patience to accept their partner, and not play the games. In reality, if you look at most long term relationships, then they are between two secure people.

 

Anyway, back to music. Since understanding more about attachment styles, every love song is ruined. It’s all based on these crazy intense feelings of longing or finding “the one”. In the words of George Ezra, “if it feels like paradise running through your body…” then you should probably turn around and run away because that’s your attachment bullshit coming into play. Every song is about that long lost lover, finding the absolute love of your life or heartbreak. None of this is a healthy version of real life. My therapist once told me that if his wife left him tomorrow he would survive. He would mourn and be devastated because he loves her, but he would eventually move on, whatever that meant for him at the time. However, if something happened to his children, he would never recover. We should never feel incomplete without a romantic partner. We should never feel completely heart broken at the loss of a relationship, because ultimately, to be in a healthy relationship we need to choose to be with someone, not feel like we need them.

 

Music doesn’t reflect this. Maybe it’s because music is essentially story telling, and stories are far less interesting without the drama. You don’t get drama in healthy relationships. Possibly because music is made by artists, who tend to use creativity as a way of dealing with their attachment issues and how they manifest throughout adult life. Whatever reason it’s created, it bugs me because there are too many people listening. The audience aren’t always as clued up about attachment and the issues it causes, so they get sucked into this fantasy world. Love no longer feels like love unless you can pin point a song that makes sense of what your feeling and brings a tear to your eye. Personally, I can’t wait for that boring, drama free love. One that I don’t listen to songs in the dark and think “oh wow, that’s me right now”, when things go wrong or right. A love that doesn’t need constant reassurance through songs to understand what I’m feeling. I don’t want to relate to wanky, self righteous, tortured singer song writers who are held up on pedestals to speak for the rest of the world. At this point I can speak for myself and I don’t recognise my voice in any love song that I’ve heard. I’m begging all those song writers with a secure sense of attachment out there, please write a song about your experiences. The world needs you and your voice so much more than those people celebrating the fact that they’ve found someone who’s as fucked up as they are. 

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Cheers to Things Going….*dare I say it* Great…

 

When things go wrong I can cope with it so well. When shit hits the fan, everything is falling apart and there’s a perfect storm I can deal with it. I’m a good man in a storm. I know what my triggers are and although sometimes it’s hard, I know that I can always get through it. When anyone else has hit rock bottom then I am the person to come to, I don’t have all the answers but I am always there, with my game face on. But when things are going great? My first reaction is to run away.

 

I’ve moved around a lot and I figure that has a part of it but that’s not everything. I found myself planning a new life today, in a new city, and it took me all of about 30 minutes to work out the logistics. I know that I can run away, and I’ll survive, it’s familiar. I genuinely believe that everyone has a right to success and happiness by just existing so, although I’ve had my issues with self esteem, I don’t believe that I deserve to fail. I’ve always worked hard, have an exceptional work ethic and am ambitious; It makes sense that I’m doing well for myself. Still, there’s a part of me that questions it somehow. Recently, I’ve changed jobs and finally left hospitality, I can officially call myself an award winning journalist, I’m happier in myself than I’ve ever been, I’ve met someone who makes me instantly forget about all the heart break (or whatever that was) of last year, and I have a best friend who is my actual soul mate, yet there still a side of me that doesn’t believe it. Things aren’t perfect, but they’re still too good to be true. I don’t understand what makes me challenge it all. There seems to be a side of me that isn’t willing to accept the good things in my life.

 

It’s something to be explored but I’m sure I’m not alone in this feeling. I do know that the only way to deal with it is to chill the fuck out and let life happen. Maybe after all the pain I’ve been through, the universe is finally paying me my dues… Fuck that. I’ve worked for this, I’ve made sacrifices and I still am making compromises to get to what I want. I never learnt to celebrate myself, and honestly no one has ever said “well done” for not being a junkie who lives in a gutter at this point, even though at several points that was a very viable possibility for me. Over the last few years, I’ve learnt to pat myself on the back for the person I’ve become. However, in celebrating all the “average” thing’s I have achieved, I never worked out how to celebrate the truly exception things. I’ve confused my focus by questioning it all but I need to keep my eye on the game. Some small part of me still wants to hold onto the darkness, better the devil you know, but I’ve come up close and personal with that demon and I’m not a fan. I’ve got to make a choice to let go myself, rather than rely on others opinions and congratulations to validate my accomplishments. I’m ready to do that now and hold my ground and shout about what I’m capable of, I just haven’t quite figured out how I go about it. I’ve got to know myself and I know what I want. I guess this is what it looks like when you’re winning.

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